


Tainted Love

by ladylilibet



Series: This Tainted Love You've Given [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Inspired by The Witcher, Love, Magic, Monsters, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22297705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylilibet/pseuds/ladylilibet
Summary: How can you tell a lady no? The White Wolf claimed he needed no one, but his collection of misfits started with Lady Helena of Oxenfurt... and ended with her, too.[Updated every Wednesday][Recently re-edited]
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Female Character(s)
Series: This Tainted Love You've Given [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666228
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Drunk of Oxenfurt, a certain Witcher is rewarded with a meal at the Duke and Duchess of Oxenfurt's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Warning: This story contains adult themes and includes light mentions of parental abuse. Thank you.)

Chapter One: 𝕷𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖂𝖍𝖔 𝕮𝖆𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝕯𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖗

Helena pricked her finger on her embroidery needle yet again. With a curse, she threw her hoop down in frustration. Her governess shot her a glare but said nothing as she worked on her own stitching. The girl mouthed an apology and picked up her book.

Being the daughter and the only heir of a duke had its perks.  Besides having the best education on the continent her fingertips, she had the wealth and splendor to go with it . And yet here she sat, still feeling empty. She wanted to live like the characters in her books. To fight with a sword, sleep under the stars, travel. She felt trapped.

'I bet that the heroes in these narratives didn't have to wear a corset that was too tight.' She thought as she fidgeted in her chair. Now she would  be allowed to walk along the main road in town and do her daily window shopping. But her mother recently set a curfew, forbidding her to even leave the villa at sundown.

Lately, those who partake in too much drink and wander the streets during the night have  been found dead and drained of their blood . Witnesses can only recall large shadows moving at quick speeds.  The beast, with its penchant for only partaking in drunkard's blood, has been  aptly named The Oxenfurt Drunk .

She only ever seen monsters in her books --  just mere illustrations  lazily drawn. Curiosity ached in her bones, but she knew she couldn't dare sneak out to get a glimpse at the bloodsucker.  The Drunk defied the knowledge of the local academy's scholars as well as the swords of my father's commanders .  Because of this, King Radovid V ordered her father to post a contract for an experienced monster hunter to slay the beast . The reward: 200 crowns and dinner at the Duke and Duchess of Oxenfurt's villa.

"Helena!" The Duchess called for her down the corridor. She knew it was best to not shout back, so she tucked a ribbon in her book, marking her place.  As she stood, he smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress and gave a quick goodbye to the older woman before leaving the study .

As she walked down the hall, she  was greeted by my parents and a stranger.  In addition to standing a head taller than my father, he had long white hair and bright golden eyes. He was beautiful in a way she'd never describe most of the men around here. He looked like a knight straight out of her books and she was aware of how plain others looked in contrast to him.

"Aah, there she is! Geralt of Rivia, meet my little daughter, Lady Helena." Her father gleamed as he gave Geralt a hearty smack on the back, "The White Wolf has slain the Oxenfurt Drunk! Can ya believe it? A Witcher in my home!"

A Witcher? That explains his looks. He's a mutant. And yet... She would never want to use that word to describe him.

She curtsied after my father introduced her and held out a hand for him to kiss. But rather than bring her hand to his lips, he gave the girl a firm handshake. She furrowed her brow at this response but ignored it.  She heard that Witchers cannot feel nor understand human emotion and assumed this applied to manners as well .

"Thank you, kind sir, for slaying the beast. I am very fortunate to be able to walk the streets once more and do so  safely ." Helena repeated the words she could see her mother mouthing. She clapped  happily once she finished.

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for coin."

She huffed but her father interrupted her before she could say anything smart to the man.

"And for a hot meal," He told him as he gestured for them to follow him to the dining room. "I hope you like suckling pig, Witcher. Little Lena over here saved the piglet when it wouldn't latch on to its mam's tit. Spoonfed it and all, thinkin' she would be savin' it from death. Turns out she was savin' it for our dinner." Her father's boisterous laugh made her stomach turn.

Dinner went about as well as expected. Her mother and father tried to masque their bragging as hospitality. But Helena could see through their guise.

'Look, Witcher! Look what we have that you don't. Take a look at your dirty reflection on our shiny, silver spoons.' I could imagine them saying.

Geralt was hard to read but he at least had a realness about him. With him, a grunt meant 'yes,' and a 'hmm' meant 'no.'

"Witcher, can I call ya Witcher?"

A grunt.

"Ya got a little lady back home?"

A 'hmm.'

"Would you like to stay in our guest chambers?"

Another 'hmm.'

"Would you like a hot bath before you take your leave?"

A pause, a ponder, then a grunt.

A servant escorted him to the bathroom, leaving them to sit in silence.

Helena waited for Geralt to be out of earshot before breaking the silence and mimicking him with a grunt.

She received a glare from my father and her mother stood and leaned across the table. With no hesitation, she delivered a smack onto the girl's cheek.

"Don't continue to embarrass us, girl."

"Once he's finished, go get washed up." Her mother commanded, "You're to have Poppy escort you to Samson's mother and father's home. We're to celebrate both the killing of the beast and your engagement, so be prompt."

She waited to hear my parents' carriage pull away before standing and stomping up to the second story. She waited in front of the bathroom's door before taking a deep breath, covering her eyes, and barging in.  Water splashed as Geralt  was surprised by the sudden intrusion but she kept her hand placed over her eyes .

"Oh nooo. I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were in here!"

"So you enter all empty rooms with eyes covered?" She peaked out behind my hands to see his amused smirk, "Or did Little Lena wish to join my bath?"

She turned beet red and threw her hands to her side in protest with a scoff. Despite the temptation to look down, she locked eyes with him.

"I need you to help me escape." His smirk faded and he now donned a glare.

She waited for him to give her a response, but when none came, she proceeded with her monologue, "I hate it here. Oxenfurt may seem progressive, but I'm not granted the same liberties... My elder sister, she got pregnant out of wedlock. Died during childbirth along with her baby. They say it's a curse, punishment, I say it's  just bad luck. But that didn't stop them from tightening the reins."

"And you think you're the first girl to beckon me that I rescue you?" He asks as he lounges back, "You're well-fed, well-dressed, and live in a great city. Why leave?"

"I'm not happy. I want to live a life worth living. Not to be some man's wife, seen  merely as a womb."

Geralt  slowly stood and she clasped a hand over my eyes once more, eliciting a chuckle from him as he grabbed his towel . Once she knew he  was covered , I looked to him once more.

"They'll say I kidnapped you."

"They already say you're a monster. What's wrong with conforming to their narrative?"

"I don't need some girl to slow me down, to get in the way."

"I can learn to fight. I've studied some nursing and can take care of you... Plus, the two hundred crowns you received from my father, well... I have broaches you can pawn off that's worth double.

Geralt stared hard at her, seeming to challenge her, but she didn't back down. After silence, he huffed, "Go. Pack a bag and meet me at the stables. I leave in twenty, with or without you."

She turned on my heel with bouncing excitement as I rushed to the door. As Helena left, she heard Geralt grunt and utter one phrase:

**"Fuck."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Updated every Wednesday. As always, let me know what you think! ^-^ )


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Butcher of Blaviken is born.

  
**(Warning: This story includes adult themes and mentions of abuse. Discretion is advised.)  
**   
  


Chapter II: 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖗'𝖘 𝕻𝖊𝖙

Geralt sat on his knees, lips pursed and eyes closed. The glow of the firelight illuminated the scars that etched his face. His white brow twitched with every crack and pop of the fire. He looked serene -- beautiful.

"Quit staring at me."

Aah, there he is.

Helena sat up with an exhalation, "I can't sleep."

Geralt's eyes fluttered half-open, "You're safe. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Rest."

She dismissed his comment with a wave and a chuckle, "I'm not comfortable.  I don't think I've ever slept on the ground before. I regret these clothes, and unlike you, I didn't get a bath." He opened his mouth to speak, but sly interrupted him, "I know, I know. I signed up for this and can't bemoan."

"Actually, I was going to say that if you had wanted a bath, then you could have joined me." My eye-roll at his comment  was received with a smirk, "At the next town, I promise you'll get a bed and a bath. Change of clothes, too."

"Geralt,"

"Lena?"

"I'm surprised you're not taunting me... For living pampered."

"We cannot help the lives in which we are born. You, a lady. I, a Witcher." He closed his eyes once more, "Daybreak is in a few hours. Try to sleep until then."

She awoke to the chill of the morning, the fire having  been stomped out. Geralt was already awake and tending to Roach, the camp already packed up. She brushed her hair with her fingers before putting it in a braid. She stood and did some stretches before going to walk away from the camp.

"Where are you going?" Geralt called after her, making the girl stop and turn around.

"I'd like to freshen up in the lake."

"Wouldn't do that if I were you." Geralt tightened Roach's saddle before looking to me.

"And why's that?"

"Hate for you to be a kikimore's breakfast."

She scrunched up my nose and shuddered before walking back to Geralt, "Mm, no thank you."

The Witcher placed his hands on her hips. Before she was able to protest, he lifted me off the ground and placed her into the mare's saddle.

"Stay, take care of Roach." He reached into the saddle's bag and procured vials of potions, "Duties call."

"I'm not a little girl, Geralt." She protested, "I can handle myself."

Geralt hummed and walked off without answering.

Roach bucked and whinnied from underneath her, startled by something. Helena tried to calm her by stroking her mane but to no avail. After a few moments of nothing, a sharp whistle pierced the deafening silence. A summoning for Roach caused her to start trotting at full speed, launching her forward. Helena gripped the horse's neck for stability as she rushed to the source of the whistle.

They arrived at the bogs to find Geralt, soaked and panting, his trophy dead beside him. Geralt pressed his forehead to Roach's.

"Was she a good girl?"

Helena peered down at him, noticing how filthy he looked, "Yeah, she was fine. A little nervous, I guess."

He pulled away from the horse with a laugh, "I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to Roach."

Geralt took a fresh cloak from his saddlebag and wore it. She looked to him  inquisitively to find black pools staring back. Already inhuman eyes have morphed into that of a demon's. She gulped  involuntarily and moved her gaze ahead.

Geralt grunted and climbed onto the horse's back behind her. He grabbed her reigns and rested his hands on her upper thighs. She trembled under his touch, but he didn't relent. He motioned for Roach to move forward, and her gait with him pressed up against her back caused her to blush. The stench of the kikimora behind him killed any unladylike thought she possessed.

"Do I frighten you, Helena?" He  gently asked, breath hot against her ear.

"Don't tease me, Geralt."

They rode in silence during the ride to Blaviken before reaching an Inn. He dismounted and extended a hand to me, which she declined. She shifted and swung her right leg over and hopped off.

"Do you forget that I'm a Lady? The daughter of a Duke?" She asked with a grin.

"Your snores last night have me convinced otherwise." He replied as he pulled a piece of paper from his cloak. She swatted his arm as she followed him into the Inn.

The commotion of the bar came to a standstill as all eyes landed on Geralt. If the people muttering about his mutations bothered him, he didn't let it show as he stepped up to the bar maiden.

He placed the piece of paper on the counter, "Point me to the Alderman."

"It's down the alley, to the left--" She began to direct him, but was  quickly interrupted by a bald man.

"Isadora!" He chastised her, making her runoff.  He turned to Geralt with a glare, eyes  briefly flickering over to Helena as well, "We don't want your kind around here, Witcher . Take your whore and be on your way."

She scoffed and stepped forward, an insult at the ready, but Geralt put a hand out, stopping her.

"The Alderman. Tell me where he is, and we'll be on our way."

"You don't give the orders 'round here, you mutant son of a bitch." A drunkard spat out behind them. She could feel her face heat up in anger, yet Geralt showed no emotion.

"Hear that?" The barkeep spoke once more, "Go. On your own, or on the end of a rope. Your choice."

Geralt pursed his lips and shrugged, "Not a hard choice." He replied as he sized the men that were beginning to gang up on him.

"Fuck that. Kill 'em with your bare hands if you have to."

"Men and their egos," Helena hissed, wishing she had a dagger hidden underneath my skirt. She took a step back and crossed her arms with a sigh

"Come on. Yer not scurred of us, are ya, Witcher?" The instigator's heavy accent questioned, "Show us what'cha made of."

"Can you not leave it alone for a moment?" A woman  exasperatedly asked. Finally, some sense.

"Witchers cannot  be trusted ."

"I'm not speaking to you," She replied, voice unfaltering. "I apologize for my man's interference in your day.  Hopefully , he can improve his behavior by tomorrow's market."

The small man backed down, "Sorry, Renfri. Come on, lads."

Renfri turned back to the bar, "Beer for my friend here and his wife, and one for me."

Helena raised a brow and looked to Geralt, mouthing the word 'wife.' She received a half-smile in response as he took off his hood, white locks on display. She sat on a stool, but the barkeep didn't ease up. He remained stone-faced, arms crossed.

"I am speaking to you now, good sir." Renfri's voice was stern and commanding, and Helena could feel herself grow envious of her. Helena  was raised to be submissive, to bite her tongue, yet this woman is fighting for the honor of a stranger.

The barkeep slammed two mugs of ale in front of them and stomped off.

"Want some breakfast?" The brunette asked as she ate a bite of potato.

"No thanks," Geralt answered, "We're full. Venison." Helena quirked a brow as he smirked at an inside joke she wasn't apart of.

She took a swig of her ally sputtering and choking on the ill taste.  Suddenly , she missed the drinks they'd serve at the villa. Her theatrics  were met with a golden-eyed glare. It  was interrupted by Renfri chugging her drink and slamming the mug down.

She  sheepishly looked at both of their amusement, "My mother, God rest her, would  be mortified ."

"Our secret, then." Geralt's flirty tone sent pangs through her stomach. Pangs and delusions that sly tried to drown with beer.

"So what brings you to Blaviken, White Hair? You came for a monster?"

"We were traveling by the swamp."

"That would be your wife and your mistake, then."

"I'm not his wife," Helena spoke for Geralt and took another drink, "Consider him an escort -- a bodyguard."  She could see the tension in the Witcher's shoulders  practically evaporate, happy for the correction . Their tones switched to more playful and flirty, and she was  suddenly feeling more like a third wheel.

"Aah, you two don't seem to be a match," Renfri replied, which felt more like a dig if anything. She turned her sights back to Geralt, "Why wouldn't you travel by main roads?"

"It's hard to make a living on main roads."

"And you  desperately need money for new clothes." She noted her and Geralt's empty mugs as Helena still nursed mine before asking for two more beers. The foul taste coated the lady's mouth, but at least it was something to fill her stomach. The barkeep, sick of her patronizing, left her the whole pitcher.

"More and more," She began as she topped my drink off and poured Geralt a fresh mug, "I find monsters wherever I go." The sexual tension between the two was thick but  was cut short by a child popping up between us.

"Where is your mother?" I questioned the young girl with a furrowed brow.

She huffed and ignored me, turning her focus to Geralt, "How much coin for your kikimora, then?" Geralt followed the child out of the inn, peering over her like a giant.

She turned to Renfri with a small curtsy and thanked her for the drinks.

"Word of the wise, Lady...?"

"Helena."

"Lady Helena, you might want to change out of those clothes if you're to be traveling with a Witcher. Your clothes scream wealth, your doe eyes say you're still a virgin. Not a pleasant combination with the men around here."

"Uhm, thanks. I guess." She waved goodbye and caught up with the pair,  just in time to hear about the little girl killing a rat with her fork.

"My mother  nearly fainted, but what was I supposed to do? It had been shitting in our pantry for days." She explained as Geralt led us to Roach.

"Your language is abhorrent." The elder girl scolded and the child stuck her tongue out in response. Frustrated, Helena stuck her tongue out too.

Ignoring their antics, Geralt advanced back to the subject on hand, "You mentioned coin."

The little girl ran ahead to be closer to him, "Yes. Isadora said you were looking for my father. She's a gossip, you see."

The kikimora claw  was exposed as it sat slouched over the horse saddle, dripping blood. The girl went immediately to investigate the monster. Helena opted to greet Roach with a scratch behind the ear, zoning out the conversation.

"Fine, take me to him." Geralt grabbed Helena's arm to get her attention. He handed her a satchel of coins, "Get us clothes and necessities. Nothing lavish. Meet me back here in a few hours." 

After they departed, Helena walked through the market. Despite it being full of people, and she felt a sense of loneliness. 

'Have I ever been by myself? No maids by my side, no escorts in the shadows.  Just me.' She thought. A smile formed on her lips -- she felt free.

She looked over the purchases that occupied her satchel. Garlic, flaxseed, valerian root, lavender, rosemary, and mint.  With Geralt being mutant and able to take potions, her nursing and herbalism weren't bound to be super useful to Geralt . Despite this, she wanted to show her worth. Besides, it didn't hurt to have on hand.

'I should get some needle and thread too.' She thought, remembering the Witcher's scars and walked off to the tailor's shop.

"Afternoon, ma'am." An older woman greeted from her stool as she walked in, "How might I help ya?"

"I need a new dress."

She squinted and stood up to inspect the lady's current threads, "Why this dress itself looks brand new!"

"Aah, that's because it is," Helena confessed, embarrassed, " Just needs a wash. I need clothes for travel."

She still looked confused but shook it off and clucked her tongue, going around the girl in a circle. "I can give you a pretty coin for the dress." The tailor took her to the back and instructed her to undress. She did as she requested, standing now in only her shift. The seamstress reached out, rubbing the material.

"Satin," She told her, "But I'd like to keep this."

"Suit yourself," She shrugged, gathering the dress at Helena's feet and taking it to the side for washing.

She brought only a few garments back. Helena settled for the first outfit she tried on. A white tunic that exposed my shoulders and had beautiful bell-sleeves. The top tucked into a long, wine-colored skirt and paired with a leather under breast corset. She was showing more skin and at this moment, she knew her mother would be cross. 

She felt lighter and did a slight twirl, making the skirt lift. She sighed content and thanked the tailor. She opted to buy a heavy cloak -- it felt itchy on her skin, but it was cheaper than fur-- and a pair of walking boots. The older woman gave change and they parted ways.

Helena still had time before she needed to meet Geralt. She still had some coins left, so she continued to walk around, breaking her shoes in. 

And that's when it caught her eye: a wooden, Elven longbow. With no hesitation, she walked to the shopkeep, slammed the coins on the counter, and took the bow. A sword was too heavy, and she rather an enemy not get close enough to use a dagger. She wasn't great at archery, but she knew how to shoot, and that made her a step better than a damsel in distress. 

Geralt was already outside the inn with Roach when she arrived. Helena's face hurt from smiling so much. She gave him what coins she had left. He  briefly looked her up and down before picking her up and placing her in the saddle.

"Wait," She protested with a pout, "I thought we were staying in the inn tonight."

He hopped onto Roach behind her and said nothing as he led them out of town.

"You promised a bath and bed," She whined and looked behind her.

"Stop talking." He  sharply commanded.

She bit her lip and focused on the path. They stayed quiet during the ride. A few minutes in, she felt Geralt pull the top of her sleeve up, covering the exposed skin.

She sighed and stayed quiet. 

They continued to stay silent as they set up our camp in the woods. Geralt tended to Roach as Helena stoaked the fire, getting it ready to make dinner.

"Want to hear about my first monster?" The Witcher finally turned to her and spoke.

She exhaled  deeply and threw her fire poker down. She had thought he was different than her mother and father. Yet here he was, mood swings and silent treatments. Though still curious. she gave him a meek nod, waiting to listen to his story.

"Wasn't fifty miles outside of Kaer Morhen. He was huge. Stinking. Baldhead. Rotten teeth. He pulled that girl from the cart, tore her dress off in front of her father and said, 'It's time you met a real man.' I told him it was time he met one too. It took two strikes to kill him. They weren't clean. But they were spectacular. I turned to that girl afterward. She  was drenched in the man's blood. She took one look at me, screamed, vomited, and passed out."

He sat down on the log beside her and took over the dinner preparations, "I thought the world needed me."

"It does." Helena murmured, opting to look at the fire and not him, "You're a hero."

"Funny. They don't think I am."

"I do." She turned to look at him this time, "Do you believe in destiny?"

He chuckled as he continued to muddle his herbs, "No."

"Then what do you believe in?"

"You mean who do  I believe in."

She shrugged and fixed her sleeves. "Oxenfurt is home to many intelligent minds. But none intelligent enough to slay The Oxenfurt Drunk. But not you. With payment, a meal at the Duke and Duchess's home. You could have refused. But you went."

Geralt looked to her with a small smile, "Lady Helena, I told you. I didn't do it for you, I did it for coin."

"I know," She laughed, "But yet we still met. Destiny or not, being with you has been freeing. I  was meant to meet you."

He says nothing as his eyes scan her face. After a moment of agonizing anticipation waiting for him to take the lead. A rush of bravery flows through her and she leaned in and kiss him. The first kiss was sweet, gentle for her first. But as he deepened the kiss, it felt full of want and desire. He pulled her into his lap and began flowering kisses along my neck and collarbone. Sometimes leaving behind small bites. As he's kissed the peaks of her breast, he grabbed her hips and rubbed up against her.

She took a shaky breath as panic sets in and she bit her lip. Geralt can sense this and immediately stops.

He pulls back and looks at her with concern in his eyes, "Lena, what's wrong?"

"I'm  just tired," She lied.

He nods and pulls her into a hug. The small, chaste intimacy causes a wave of relief to flood over me. He scoops her up and lays her on his sleeping mat before laying down beside her. He undoes her braid and plays with her hair. 

As Helena fell asleep, she prayed that he one day believes in destiny too.

* * *

  


**Chamomile and bergamot.**

Such an intense scent that flooded Geralt's nostrils. A smell that was calming and intoxicating all at once. New yet familiar. Something he remembered long before his training at Kaer Morhen.

Geralt could feel the rise and fall of Helena's breathing as she slept  soundly . It's been a while since he had the privilege to lay beside a woman. A decent brothel was few and far between. It's been even longer since he laid by a woman he didn't need to pay.

The Witcher hadn't slept well. Bad dreams haunted him all night. Nightmares he was sure would manifest soon. Yet Geralt knew if he continued to lie here, Helena would lull him to sleep.

He opened tired eyes to gaze at her sleeping form. She was young -- he was willing to wager that she was  barely a day over eighteen. Freckles dotted milky white skin like constellations in the night sky. With her brown hair and matching eyes, she reminded him of a deer. Demure and naive, the fawn wandered into the White Wolf's den.

Helena had an air to her that put Geralt at a crossroads. She had an innocence he wanted to protect but also wanted to claim for himself. To take the innocence of a duke's daughter, an engaged one at that, made him feel dirty and excited all at once.  To watch her clutch the sheets as he entered her for the first time, her walls feeling  sinfully tight as he pushed past her barrier . Her rose petal lips crying out, moaning his name --

"Geralt,"

Geralt froze, worried she had felt him grow hard against her. He cursed the parts that still made him human. A whore's embrace couldn't come sooner.

"Geralt," Helena repeated, this time rolling over to face him. "What's for breakfast?"

The question made him laugh and grounded him. There were other matters to attend to.  First and foremost , Renfri and his premonition.

Helena's quiver hung  uncomfortably at her side, strapped to her hip by its leather belt, wooden bow in her left hand . Geralt had told her if she were to use a bow and arrow, she'd need to get used to holding it. When he asked if she ever used a bow before, she laughed it off and assured him she did. 

What she failed to mention was that she always came last in her archery course, never quite able to make the mark. But what did it matter? It was only for a sense of security. She'd leave the monster hunting to the Witcher.

"She knew you'd come." The instigator from the inn spoke out from across the market.

"Where's Renfri?" Geralt asked,  suddenly making it clear to Helena he had lied. They didn't come back for breakfast. They came for Renfri. She adjusted the bow in her hand, now afraid she'd need to use it.

"She's at the tower with your little friend, Marilka."

Helena scowled.  Surely Renfri wouldn't subject a child to this, even one of the likes of Marilka.

"She gave us a message to pass on to you," Another henchman spoke, "You have to choose the lesser evil."

"It's an ultimatum," A third stated as he grabbed his sword, the steel gleaming, "Get it?"

Geralt stood in front of Helena, acting as a wall between her and the men.

"Fuck," He uttered as he retrieved his sword in time to deflect an arrow shot from a crossbow.

The following events happened in such a whirlwind that it made Helena feel light-headed .  She had heard men swap war stories, most of which she had assumed  were fabricated or at the very least embellished . But she had never  witnessed death itself, let alone a massacre.

As Geralt began killing his opponents in such a fluid motion, one after the other, it made the girl retch. The distraction made her an easy target as one of the men came up behind her, a dagger passed  firmly to her back.

"I ain't gonna hurt ya," He promised using his free hand to push back her hair, exposing her neck. "Could get me a pretty coin for the Witcher's whore."

Helena could feel the adrenaline rush through her, her heartbeat thudding  loudly in her ear . She spun around and tried to gain the upper hand. A bow would do no good at this moment -- too close, too slow. She went to punch him in the face, but a large hand clamped over her delicate fist. In her peripheral, she could see him ready to stab her. She  swiftly deflected him with her forearm, feeling the blade cut through her skin.

Helena let out a yell and kneed him as hard as she could in the groin, causing him to push her down. As she lay on her back, the man reared the dagger back, aiming to stab her.  Using her leather boots, she began pedal-kicking her attacker until finally, she was able to kick the blade out of his hand . 

With the weapon out of reach, the man swore and threw himself on top of her, and pressed his forearm against her neck. She tried to call for Geralt but no sound could escape as he crushed her windpipe. Panic began to consume her, but as she struggled for air, she was ready to give in. She had wanted adventure and this was the cost.

No, no, no.

She wasn't ready. She had more that needed to  be done .  With what fight she had left, she took an arrow from her a quiver and shoved the steel tip through his right eye, deep until the wooden shaft broke . He let go of his hold of her and doubled over while trembling and seizing.

Helena scrambled to her feet and grabbed her bow. She  quickly ran to where Geralt was fighting,  just in time to witness him decapitate a man with his sword. She wanted to scream, cry, anything, but the pain and fear prevented her.

She stood helpless, her body shaking and her knees weak. Marilka sobbed and called out of Geralt as Renfri held a sword to the little one's neck. Renfri's eyes scanned the area to see dead bodies of her men littered the marketplace.

"You chose."

"Let the girl go." Geralt told her, placing his sword to his side to negotiate with her as he took a step towards them.

Renfri pressed her blade closer to Marilka's neck, "I will kill her," She threatened, tears forming in her eyes," I will kill everyone here until Stregobor comes down ."

Geralt produced the Axii symbol, "Leave Blaviken."

"Magic doesn't work on me... Silver does, though."

"Silver is for monsters," Geralt spat back. Renfri tossed Marlika to the side and drew her sword to the opening position.

The little girl ran to Helena who checked her over for injuries. When she had seen that she had none, the older girl wrapped her in an embrace.

"If we cross swords..." Geralt began, but Renfri finished for him."

"I won't be able to stop."

As the pair began to duel, Helena tried to block the girl from witnessing it. She tried to get her to run home, but Marilka refused and stood firm as tears ran down her face. 

Helena hugged her, but when the clashing of metal came to an end, the young girl fought out of her arms and ran once her master called .

Helena followed close behind her and saw Renfri dead on the ground, and Geralt holding up to Stregobor's neck .

"If you touch a single hair on her head, yours will be on the ground next." The white-haired man hissed.

"Have you gone mad?" The mage questioned, "Her mutation, it influences people. That's how she got these men to follow her. We need to take it." After seeing he couldn't reason with the other man, he asked, "She got to you too, didn't she?"

"Do. Not. Touch. Her." The white wolf demanded, fangs bared.

"Witcher," Stregobor began aloud rallying in the town, "You butchered bodies in the streets of Blaviken ."

"You're a beast!"

"You endangered these girls!" Another shouted.

The crowd became agitated and the mage continued to egg them on, "You took the law into your own hands."

The shouts of the townspeople grew more vehement as stones were cast at Geralt. He kneeled down as the rocks pelted him. Helena crouched beside him and put a tender hand on his shoulder. At that moment, she made her choice too.

"Get out of Blaviken, Geralt," Marilka commanded. "Don't ever come back."

Geralt and Helena sat back to back in the bathhouse's tub. She had finally gotten her hot bath he had promised. She  was relieved to be able to wash off her travels and to soak her aching muscles in the warm water. Her marking on her arm was superficial. The dagger had  barely grazed her, but she could still see the guilt the scratch brought Geralt.

The pair had been silent since leaving Blaviken. What was there to  be said ? They had stopped at the bathhouse a few towns over where the news had not yet spread.  She had followed silent instructions to undress and get in the water as the man had given her privacy before doing the same . Any other time, she might blush at the fact that she was sitting nude beside him, but she didn't care. She was too exhausted, too drained.

"What are you thinking about?" Helena finally broke the silence, voice still hoarse, still trembling.

Geralt tensed against her and sighed before speaking, "We're only two days from Oxenfurt . We'll leave the first thing at daybreak."

She didn't feel like begging or pleading, but she knew she wasn't going to go back. Not now, not after that.

"No." She replied  curtly .

"I wasn't asking --"

"Neither was I." She stepped out of the tub and grabbed her towel, wrapping it around her. "You're not who they say you are, Geralt of Rivia."

Before Geralt could open his mouth to speak, she interrupted him once more, "I'm not going anywhere so you might as well get used to me ."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to be the bard.

  
  
Chapter III: 𝕿𝖔𝖘𝖘 𝖆 𝕮𝖔𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖂𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖗  
  
  
  
  
Geralt hadn't mentioned returning Helena to Oxenfurt since the night in Blaviken days ago.

She was thankful for that -- she knew nothing was waiting for her back home. Her parents were most likely concerned, sure, but for the wrong reasons. Did her happiness matter to them? No, of course not. Helena was to be kept as a caged lark. A well-behaved lady soon to be wed. The saving grace of her elder sister's wrongdoings that brought shame to the family. 

Initially, she worried the Witcher would have the same attitude towards her. And he did, but only at first. Helena made it known that she wasn't going to be just a woman in the background, smiling and cheering him on. No, they were to be a team. 

As they sat in a tavern, Helena scribbled in her journal. Her writings served a dual purpose. She documented the monsters that Geralt hunted but also chronicled their current adventures. The beast, how to slay it, so on, but she also wrote about the hero himself: Geralt of Rivia. She recently finished her entry about their latest hunt after being ambushed by a group of drowners. Nasty things, but easy to kill. 

Helena doodled the Witcher's medallion as Geralt sat across from her. The sat in quiet while he sat in thought, the clamor of the tavern a mere dull drone in the background. He enjoyed his silence, especially in public spaces, and she respected that. However, the man with the lute did not.

"I love the way you just... sit in the corner and brood." The man coolly leaned on a column. His eyes skirted from Geralt to Helena, who gave a toothy grin.

The lady returned the smile and parted her lips to speak, but only for Geralt to speak for her. "We're here to drink alone." His voice was gruff. His refusal to even look at the bard would ordinarily bother Helena. She knew Geralt wasn't trying to be inherently rude, or so she hoped. Either way, it didn't offend the other man, or he didn't notice. 

"Good, yeah, good." He ignored Geralt and continued on, "No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance, except for you two." He stepped behind Helena, one hand loosely grasped around his mug, the other placed on her exposed shoulder. She could see golden eyes pierce through the bard, but he said nothing, prompting the other man to continue, "Come on, you wouldn't want to leave a man with... bread in his pants waiting."

Helena chuckled, eliciting two different responses from the men. The bard gave her a gentle squeeze before removing his hand and prompted her to scoot over, allowing him to share half the seat with her. Whereas Geralt glared at her, almost as if to scold her for encouraging him.

"You must have some review for me. Three words or less." 

"Distasteful," Helena began counting on her fingers, "Inappropriate... Tacky? Or are those just the same words three times?"

"They don't exist," Geralt added.

"What don't exist?"

"The creatures in your song."

"And how would you know?" The bard's question went unanswered and his blue eyes scanned over the pair, "Oh, fun. White hair. Big, old, loner. Two very scary-looking swords. Sidekick with a notebook. I know who you are."

Geralt didn't respond to him and gathered his things, motioning for Helena to do the same. As the pair made their way to the exit, the other man followed.

"You're the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Called it." The tavern went silent, but he kept walking, leading Helena by the hand. 

Another man hurried behind them, "A job I've got for ya. I beg you."Geralt halted at the promise of coin, "A devil -- he's been stealing all our grain. In advance, I'll pay you one hundred ducat." 

The Witcher looked down at Helena then to the man with a sigh. "One-fifty."

The man seeking the service held the bag of coins tightly in his hands before giving it to Geralt, "I have no doubt you'll come through. You take no prisoners, so I hear."

Butcher of Blaviken. The words echoed through Helena's head as she grimaced.  
  
Geralt and Helena were not yet twenty minutes out of the village before hearing the bard call after them.

"Need a hand?" He asked, jogging up beside them, out of breath. "I've got two. One for each of the devil's horns."

"I think I have it covered." Helena continued behind Geralt as he kept walking.

"Go away." Geralt commanded.

The bard waved his hands, "I won't be but a silent backup. Surely I could provide more help than her." This was rewarded from a piercing glare from Helena, prompting the bard to become more sheepish. "Aah, no offense, m'lady..."

After a brief beat of silence, the man began to start monologing again to Geralt. "Look, I heard your note, and you're right. Maybe real adventures would make better stories. And you, sir, smell chock full of them." He paused and crinkled his nose, "Amongst other things. What is that? Is that onion? It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, you smell of death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak."

"It's onion."

"I could be your barker!" He said, waving his arms, "Spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia. The-the... The Butcher of Blaviken!"

The moniker made Helena tense and clearly, it did the same for Geralt, who stopped the party in its tracks.

"Come here." He told the bard who enthusiastically bounded up to him. The bigger man punched the smaller one in the stomach, causing him to double over with a sharp inhale. Helena covered her mouth, attempting to stifle her giggle. Geralt gave her a small smile and reclaimed his place at her side.

"Come on, ladies." He said, grabbing Roach's bridle and Helena's hand. 

* * *

Not even a fist to the gut was enough to keep Jaskier away. He bounded closely behind Geralt as the Witcher took note of his surroundings, his hand on his medallion. 

Helena knew not to get so close to Geralt during a hunt and found a grassy area to relax. The air was heavy and warm; a gentle breeze made the midsummer heat bearable. Jaskier's voice became faint in the distance, the songs of cicadas replacing him. Maybe Helena could rest her eyes for but a moment. To close her eyes, just until Geralt returned.

**Shit.**

How long had she been asleep? Where was Geralt? Hell, where was the bard? Anyone?

Her moment of panic immediately turned to anger. Geralt left her. She was utterly daft to think he wouldn't run out on her the first chance he got. She stood with a curse and balled her fists. As she was plotting her next move -- _find the others, steal Roach, kill the bard, worry about Geralt later_ \-- Helena felt a man stand behind her as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

Her knees slightly buckled and she let out a contented sigh, "I knew you wouldn't leave me, Geralt."

"Filavandrel aén Fidháil." The melodic voice corrected her. "Or just Filavanderel. Though I suppose you could call me your majesty." 

He took her hands and bounded them behind her back with rope. Helena swallowed hard, the color draining from her cheeks. Filavandrel apparently could sense her anxiety, and he turned her around to face him.

"Hush now." He cooed as he wrapped a long arm around her waist, "I won't be the one to hurt you."

"Where are my friends?" Helena meekly asked while they began to walk into the hills. With no response, the lady huffed, and her tone shifted, "Is tying my hands necessary? I pose no threat to you."

"I cannot trust a human despite how small. Especially one with a weapon on their hip." He paused and examined her bow, "One stolen from my people at that." 

She bit her tongue, choosing her words carefully, "King Filavandrel, what my ancestors did and -- and continue to do... Is wrong. And I'm sorry, but the acts weren't committed by my hands."

"This I know. I'm not looking to make you a martyr. If you and your band are set free, you'll tell the town Torque was stealing for us and we'll be chased out. I can't have that happen to my people. Not again."

He led her to the entrance of a cave where a Sylvan waited. As she followed them in, she heard a woman coughing loudly and gasping for air.

"What's wrong with her?" Jaskier asked. 

Geralt looked over at the king and then Helena's bound wrist. His face contorted into a sneer, "Did you hurt her?

She didn't respond and looked to the elven lady and spoke softly, "She's sick." Filavanderl passed Helena to his guard as he and Torque assisted the woman. 

Jaskier questioned once more, "And who is this?"

"He's Filavanderl." Helena answered him, biting her lip, "King of the Elves.

The blonde man pursed his lips and spat back a reply, "Not a king. Not by choice." 

"You were stealing for them," Geralt accused the sylvan.

"I felt for them. They were forced out of Dol Blathanna."

"Forced out?" The bard began, confused, "No, they choose--"

Helena promptly cut him off, "Jaskier, do you know anyone that would choose to live in a dismal cavern? Starving to death, presuming they don't die of disease first?"

She understood his aversion having had the same education that was construed in bias. But from where Helena stood, she knew what they were taught were lies.

"Toruviel, no one was supposed to get hurt." Torque doted on the woman.

"What's three humans in the ground when countless elves have died?"

"Two humans." Geralt harshly corrected, "And you can let them go."

"Then Posada will learn that we've been stealing. The humans will attack." Filavandrel circled the trio, "Many will die... on both sides."

"The lesser evil. No matter what you choose, you'll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me."

"That's the problem. I can't. This is necessary."

"I understand. As long as you understand that it won't be long before you follow me in death." Geralt challenged with a golden-eyed glare, "To kill a Witcher, they'd mark you a hero. To kill a defenseless man, a monster. And to kill a young girl, Lady of Oxenfurt..." He clucked his tongue.

Jaskier's eyes suddenly shot to Helena having recognized her. She returned his stare with a mock curtsy, hands still bound behind her back.

"They're the ones that pushed us from viable soil. Even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic."

"Chaos is the same as it's always been," Geralt explained. "Humans just adapted better." 

"You say adapt. I say destroy."

"You are choosing to starve. You're cutting off your ear to spite your face."

"You think this is about pride?" Filavandrel spat, "My elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had. And when they fought back, they were slaughtered. 'The Great Cleansing', humans called it. I called it digging a mass grave for everyone I loved. And now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow... our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don't wish to bury anyone else. I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers. Now I'm Filavandrel of the Edge of the World. If I bring my people down from these mountains, it would mean bowing to human sovereignty. They'll make slaves of us. Pariahs of half-blood children."

"Then go somewhere else." Geralt advised without missing a beat. "Rebuild. Get strong again. Show the humans that you are more than what they fear you to be."

"Like you, Witcher?"

"I have learned to live with them. So that I may live."

"Please, my king." Toruviel stood with a weak fighting stance that immediately crumbled as she began to hack once more.

"Dried thyme." Helena uttered to the other girl, "In hot water like tea. There is some in my satchel." She received a confused frown in response, so she continued speaking, "It helps with a cough. Plus, the warmth and steam of the water are soothing."

Torque took note of this. His eyes scanned to the Witcher and his king, the elf's hand still lingering on the hilt of his sword, "The Witcher could have killed me. But he didn't. He's different. They're different. Like us."

Geralt saw the hesitation in Filavandrel's face, "If you must kill me, I am ready. But the Sylvan's right. Don't call me human."

The king unsheathed his sword, prompting Geralt to look straight up, providing a clean strike to his neck. Helena clenched her eyes shut as she heard the blade move through the air.

"You're free to go," Filavandrel told them as he cut the ropes off of Geralt and Jaskier. He turned to Helena and unbound her as well. Once her hands were free, she reached into her bag and handed him a jar of dried herbs which he received with a small smile. Brown eyes gazed into blue and Helena finally understood the foretold beauty of elves.

"Oi, my lute!" Jaskier interrupted their moment as he mourned over his shattered instrument.

"In exchange for medicine, you may have my lute." Toruviel offered, gesturing to the object in the corner.

Jaskier took the lute and scrambled out of the cave, leaving Geralt and Helena.

"Thank you," Helena spoke for the bard. "For everything. Your kindness with not be forgotten." She curtsied to the king as she departed.

The trio kept quiet as they left the mountains. Helena sat side saddled on Roach behind Geralt as Jaskier walked on foot, playing his lute. 

"The whole reverse psychology thing you did on them was brilliant, by the way." Jaskier finally spoke.

Helena nodded in agreement and spoke in a deep, gruff voice, "Kill me. I'm ready." She giggled as he seemed none too pleased with her impersonation. 

"That's the conclusion. They just let us go, and Geralt gives all of Nettly's coin to the elves."

"Is the lute not gift enough for you?"

Jaskier smirked at Helena and caressed his instrument, "She is sexy, isn't she?" He thought aloud for a moment before breaking out into song, "♫ Will the elf king heed what the Witcher entreats? Is history a wheel doomed to repeat? ♫ No... No, that's shit."

"This is where he part ways, bard. For good." Geralt told him. 

"I promised to change the public's tune about you. At least allow me to try." Jaskier droned and began to pluck the strings of his lute, singing a song he later penned Toss A Coin To Your Witcher. 

Geralt halted Roach as he and Helena spoke at the same time, interrupting the song. "That's not how it happened."

"Where's your new-found respect?" Helena teased.

"Respect doesn't make history." He responded as he continued to sing, parting ways with the pair.

Helena hummed as she adjusted her sitting position, now riding astride. "He's right, y'know." Geralt didn't respond nor did he object when Helena wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his back.

They rode to the next town in silence, but Toss A Coin To Your Witcher was forever stuck in her head.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is long overdue. I've been depressed, uninspired, and insecure. Hopefully, this helps me get out of my rut.

Chapter IV: 𝕹𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝕿𝖎𝖒𝖊

  
  
  
Two seasons had flown by and landed the pair in the thralls of winter. Unbeknownst to Helena, a bounty sat on her head. She was being hunted by her father's men and her White Wolf wasn't alerted until she was all but cornered. Once captured, a deal was struck, a compromise was met. Her adventures were to be viewed as her studying abroad. Warranted freedom that was also an extension of her education. Her parents allowed this independence, yet still kept her on a short leash. She had to promise that she would send a letter home at each fort and would return in time for a summer wedding.

They never did pick up where they left off in the forest of Blaviken, often leaving her to wonder if it was a dream. They shared many baths, but other than stolen looks, nothing came of it. She stopped questioning her place as his ward once they stopped at a brothel a week ago.

The chill of the night made Helena tremble and shiver. She hugged her cloak closer and rested her head on Roach's shoulder with a sigh. She was kicked out of her room for non-payment -- the owner refused her broaches in place of coin. Geralt was able to finish his philandering but she couldn't even finish her meal.

"Don't judge me." Geralt told her he sauntered out of the brothel as he took note of her pouty lip. She responded with a half-hearted shrug. He turned to the brothel keep that was escorting him out, "I'll be back with payment in a few days. Anything happens to my horse..."

"You don't scare me," He snorted

Geralt glowered down at the shorter man who was now trembling. He demanded to know where Temeria is and the keep immediately pointed in the right direction.

Helena set forth, not sure of where she was going, but more than willing to keep a distance between her and Geralt. She had difficulty adjusting in the dark and could feel his eyes bore holes into her back as she stumbled every so often.

"Lena," He called out after watching her trip once more. She kept her pace and kept quiet. "Mind telling me what your problem is?"

She let out a sarcastic laugh, unable to bite her tongue, "Mind telling me what that was? To... tease me for months, only to bring me to a brothel and leave me to my own devices. A respected noblewoman surrounded by immodesty. I don't have experience with men, but what kind of mind games are you playing?"

Helena stopped to face him and questioned whether she was being daft given his emotionless expression. Ready to give up and forget it, she turned around, only to have him grab her wrist to stop her.

"I am still a man, Helena. Would you have preferred you to be the one to warm my bed?" Geralt provoked, voice gruff. She could feel the heat rise to her face and with her free hand, she slapped him across the face. A blow he expected but caused him to grimace nonetheless.

"I don't expect you to feel how I do --"

"Because I'm a Witcher?" An argument he always chose to default to whenever the pair bickered.

"No, you absolute dolt." Helena huffed and returned his glare. "forget it."

The pair continued to walk to Temeria in silence, but this time, side-by-side. They arrived within the mines and listened to the worker's demonstration.

"My son, rest his soul, told me in Nilfgaard the king diddled whores while his subjects starved. Then someone came: The Usurper.

And he rallied the people, and they took back what was theirs! I say we follow their lead!" The man's story was met with cheers from his comrades, but a chuckle from Geralt.

"You can't kill the Vukodlak so you decide to kill your king?" He asked in a condescending tone before pretending to think about it, "Great plan."

"Another fuckin' Witcher." He was met with distaste as some of the works spat at his feet, "Your kind already swindled us once."

"I take payment after the job is done and for a third of the price," The white-haired man corrected.

Helena nodded her head towards the workers, "An utmost apology from ours to yours."

The demonstrator seemed hesitant and looked to his fellow men for reassurance, "And if you can't kill it?"

"Then I die." The Witcher responded matter-of-factly.

The march of armor caused the crowd to go tense; pick-axes were now held like weapons at the ready.

"Lower your weapons and return to your homes," A nobleman commanded, "Do so quickly and without further theatrics and you have my word that our king will not hear of this treason."

"Foltest commits treason. He hides in his winter castle as we are eaten." The demonstrator's argument met with more cheers.

"Mikal was a good boy." The nobleman told the man, feigning empathy as he clasped his hand on his shoulder. "Revenge will not ease your pain."

The mourning man removed his hand and spat at his feet. Forces were at the ready to clash but were called off with a waved of the hand.

"You know nothing of my pain." He left with his men following in suit.

Geralt sighed at their departure and looked to the nobleman, "Does Foltest have a plan?"

He ignored Geralt's question despite looking at him. "See this one to the borders. Temeria's had their fill of Witchers."

* * *

Knights escorted the pair with only the moon lighting their path. After walking for a short time, the four horsemen slumped off onto the cold ground as a fog surrounded the party.

As Helena opened her mouth to voice her concerns, her bones felt heavy. She struggled to breathe before she too fell in the snow. She could feel strong arms pick her up and cradle her. She strained to hear them speak, but their voices fell on her deaf ears. Feeling weak and unable to continue to fight the spell, she let herself be consumed by the darkness. 

  
  


Helena awoke to the smell of incense that permeated the air. She blinked away the sleep in her eyes before sitting up to note her surroundings. Geralt's cloak tucked in around her and she drew the cloth closer to her frame. She attempted to call out for him, but her voice was hoarse and her mouth felt as if she swallowed sand. What little sound she could summon was enough to alert someone that she was awake. Footsteps made their way towards her.

"In my defense, I presumed you were also a sorceress. I didn't expect you to pass out." A melodic voice offered her. The speaker rounded the corner in tandem with Geralt, revealing herself. She was pretty and lithe, almost unnaturally so, with her honey skin dusted with freckles. She gave Helena a soft smile as she clasped her hands in front of her, "I'm Triss Merigold."

Helena strained to speak but was met with only a wheeze. She huffed as a blush crept up her cheeks, prompting Geralt to laugh. He strode towards her and patted her back before introducing her.

"she means to say she's Helena."

"I can fetch a maid to bring you some tea if you'd like," Triss offered. At Helena's quick nodding, she continued, "Though King Foltest didn't prepare for your arrivals, I'm sure I can get you two settled in the guest chambers. Would you like to room together or separate?"

"Separate." The pair spoke in unison, though Helena's response was more of a croak.

Triss nodded, her soft smile now contorted into a smirk, and left to have their rooms readied.

* * *

Helena would be lying to herself if she said she didn't mind having a bed all to herself. She could stretch out and didn't have to deal with Geralt's tossing and turning. And yet she still missed him sleeping next to her.

She sat up and stretched with a sigh. Was it unfair for her to still be annoyed with him? He owed her nothing. After all, they weren't a couple. She was betrothed to another man. And yet…

"I think I'm falling for him," Helena slumped back into the bed with a groan and ran her fingers through her hair.

She mentally wrestled with this conclusion. As she did, her bedroom door flew open, causing her to shriek and clutch the duvet to her, hiding her dressing gown.

Geralt stood at the entrance, a small grin played on his lips. Speak of the devil.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" She huffed with a scowl, which caused him to smile more.

"Glad you have your voice back. Pack your things."

"Why?"

"I... may have accused Foltest of fucking his sister."

Helena rubbed her temples, "So we're leaving?"

"No, of course not. We have a curse to break."

* * *

The duo stood outside the abandoned castle that housed the Striga. Geralt had given her the full run-down. Princess Adda, Foltest's sister, was presumably cursed during her pregnancy. She and the child died during birth and the stillborn grew into a Striga. A beast with an insatiable appetite that was powerful to kill a Witcher once before.

The wind blew causing the old castle walls to groan. The men on guard shuddered and flinched at every small noise. Their knuckles were white as they held their weapons at the ready.

"You were told to leave Temeria," Triss said as she approached them.

Geralt replied in a flat tone as he gestured around him, "But come on. These views."

"Are you going to kill her?"

"I don't want the miner's coin."

"Or mine, apparently." Triss accused, eyeing them both. "What is this girl to you? Why do you care?"

"You first. I saw how Foltest and his boy spoke to you. Why help those who won't listen?"

The other woman sighed. Accepting that she wouldn't win this argument, "And how do you plan on getting past the guards?"

Helena picked up a large rock amongst the rubble and tossed it overhand behind the guards. At the sudden commotion, they abandoned post with their tails between their legs. She looked to the others with a smug smile.

The group wandered into the castle and Geralt tried each locked door. Helena regarded the skeletal remains that littered the floor.

"Temeria reeks of secrets. I could sense them," Triss spoke, "Just like I could these bodies before we entered. I imagine you sense them, too."

Though she was speaking to Geralt, he didn't reply, causing Helena to respond to him.

"A big, spooky castle has dead bodies in it? How revolutionary."

Triss rolled her eyes and stopped to view a painting, "Foltest and Adda. Whatever happened to them?"

Helena shook her head, unsure. The sorceress looked to Geralt, hoping to get a response from him, but got nothing.

"Not answering questions is a pillar of his brooding charm," Helena answered.

"I'm pretty sure Foltest is the father," Geralt kept walking as he ignored the women. They followed him in silence until they reached the master bedroom.

"Do you think he cursed her?" Triss questioned. When she only received a quirked brow from Geralt and a blank stare from Helena, she clarified. "Foltest."

"Maybe."

Geralt sniffed the air around the bed as Triss played with a music box. The eerie tune made Helena more on edge as it added to the ominous presence. The music stopped, the noise of tinkering followed, then Triss called out.

"Guys. Letters from Queen Sancia, Foltest and Adda's mother.

'My dearest Adda, you must leave your room one day soon, my child. You must maintain your strength. Despite the crimes you have committed against the crown, you remain my only one, my little girl. Understand that you and Foltest may not see one another again so that your sin cannot be repeated'..." Triss trailed off and stopped reading the letter.

"Looks like you were right, Geralt." Helena quipped with a crinkled nose and a shudder.

Unsure of the next step, Triss suggested they take the letter to the king's courtier, Ostrit.

"A Queen Mother cursing her own children for their affair," With a click of his tongue, Ostrit tossed the parchment onto his desk. "This could destroy the throne."

They asked questions such as whether the Queen Mother had any ties to dark sorcery. These letters now making her a prime suspect. None of these questions seemed to strike a chord with Ostrit, but one.

"What was your relationship with Adda?" Helena asked.

The older man faltered but attempted to act indifferent, "Well, I like to think that she saw me as a confidant. A protector, even. She could be naive."

"Did she ever mention her relationship with Foltest?"

"Certainly not like this," He replied, gesturing to the letter.

Triss furrowed her brow, "She was ashamed.

"Or she was frightened." Ostrit offered, "What if the relationship was not... consensual?"

Helena crossed her arms with a frown, "You think he raped his own sister and then cursed the child to cover it up?"

"Kings have done more for less."

"True," Geralt nodded as he stepped towards the courtier. "But there is one small wrinkle, though. Your scent was on her sheets. Old ones... and new ones."

"Geralt, what would he be doing in a dead girl's bed?"

"I could smell what he was doing." His tone was dark and the realization hit her, causing her to cringe.

Ostrit began to tremble and cried out, "Foltest had no right! He seduced Adda. He abused his position. He was always nagging her for attention. But he didn't love her. I did!"

"You cursed the woman you loved?" Triss spat as her hands formed fists.

"I cursed Foltest, not her."

"Countless are dead because of your jealousy."

"Countless are dead because of Foltest! He spoiled Adda with his seed. He refuses to kill this striga. He lies to his people. And yet you wag a finger in my face."

"Cool motive, still murder." Helena jeered, "If you wanted him to suffer, you could have just exposed the affair."

"And hurt Adda? Never. Her memory will not be sullied while I'm alive to protect it."

"Your actions led to her death regardless. You weren't protecting her."

Geralt cut off Helena and looked down his nose at Ostrit, "Tell us how to lift the curse."

"No," He stated with a defiant glint in his eyes, "Foltest will watch as Temeria turns against him. Just as he turned Adda against me."

Geralt hummed and punched the man, knocking him out cold.

* * *

Helena checked each tip of her arrow was sharp enough as the full moon neared. Once she satisfied, she put the last bow in her quiver and tightened her straps. Geralt readied his own things and once he saw she was prepared, he stood with a sigh.

"Look, Lena..." He began as he scratched the back of his neck.

She raised a brow. Was he about to apologize? Make any sudden declarations?

"You're going to sit this one out," He continued, "It's too risky. It's not the same as fighting a ghoul."

"Do you not think I'm ready?"

"Lena, please don't start. Triss will look after you. I'll see you when the sun rises." He squeezed her shoulder as a goodbye before taking off.

Helena looked to Triss with a scowl who threw her arms up in mock surrender.

"I'm not the one who told him he should make you stay."

"He keeps treating me like a child. He makes me practice combat every day, and for what?"

"Are you going to follow him?"

She paused, having not considered that as an option, then nodded. She grabbed the last of her things before leaving the sorceress behind.

"Okay, but if Geralt asks, I put up more of a fight!" Triss called after her.

* * *

She sat holed up as she listened to the terrible screams of the Striga. Her vantage point wasn't the greatest. Though she could see that this was the ugliest beast she had yet to encounter. As she watched the fight take place, she cheered Geralt on. But once the Striga broke free of the chain Geralt bound her in --

"Fuck," Geralt and Helena uttered in unison.

The creature tackled and pinned the Witcher to the ground as he struggled under her weight. With a piercing screech, the Striga had overtaken him and her spit pooled on his face. He attempted to grab his sword, only to have it knocked away and out of reach.

Helena drew her bow back and paused. With a deep breath, she released and the broad sharp pierced its shoulder. The beast reared with an unpleasant cry. Though it was now distracted from Geralt, the beast's attention was now on Helena. Before she could position another bow, the Witcher used the symbol Aard. Thrusting both him and the Striga through the stone floor and onto the lower level with a heavy thud.

Helena scrambled from her hiding spot and raced to the second floor. She was trembling as she attempted to use her bow to steady herself. She looked at the Striga who lay motionless then to Geralt as he inspected a broken vial.

"Is it dead?" She asked, nudging the creature with her foot.

The White Wolf threw the broken glass and scowled at her with bared teeth, "You disobeyed me."

The young girl clutched her bow tighter and avoided his gaze. She mumbled about how it was Triss's idea for her to come. He towered over her, face stern but eyes soft, as he clasped her hand.

"You have to trust me as I trust you. If we are to be a team, I need you to follow my instinct."

He gave her wrist a soft squeeze and let go, walking off to the crypt's entrance and placing a protection ward.

"I'm here now," Helena called after him, voice shaky. "So what do we do?"

"Keep the Striga out of her crypt 'til dawn."

"Simple enough." With a final look at the beast, she took her station at Geralt's side as he tested the ward.

  
Moments later when she went to check on the Striga, she noticed it had gone. Before she could even voice her concerns, the beast tackled her. Its weight enough to bring them both hard on the ground. Helena cried out for Geralt as claws dug into her shoulders. She pressed her bow against the creature's neck, pushing it off. The wood splintered and broke under the force. 

Geralt grabbed the Striga. In retaliation, the Striga tossed him into a stone pillar, treating him as if he was a ragdoll. With a final blow to the Witcher, the beast retreated to the crypt only to be blown back by the protection charm. Furious, the Striga ran to assault Geralt once more. He was ready this time and punched it back with a pair of brass knuckles. 

Sunlight infiltrated the castle -- they finally made it to dawn. Geralt picked Helena up and carried her as they ran to the tomb. He threw them back into the coffin. He clutched her to his chest as he closed the lid and sealed it with a protection charm. Helena buried her nose into his tunic as a feeble attempt to hide from the scent of death and decay. He stroked her back as they lay waiting. Once they heard the rooster crow for the third time, Geralt opened the coffin and helped them both out.

The Striga was now transformed into a human but lay bloody and shivering. Geralt approached her. The small movement was enough to spook her and she attacked him. She bit deep into his jugular. 

As he bled out and succumbed to darkness, she inched away. Terrified eyes locked with Helena's. Helena wanted to scream, cry, anything, but she knew it would further frighten the girl. 

Helena held her hands up to show she no longer had her weapon. Her face was soft and she cooed to the girl as if she was speaking to a stray dog on the street.

"Hi there, Princess. I'm not going to hurt you." Helena slowly took off her cloak and tossed it at her feet. She mimed shivering and pretended to wrap an invisible cloak around herself. "Brrr, cold."

Apprehensively, she stood and put on the cloak as she followed Helena's lead. 

Helena stepped towards her, causing the other girl to flinch at each step. "Outside." She pointed and rubbed her belly, "Find food."

Together they walked out of the castle -- Helena kept her distance as the other struggled to walk. At the end of the bridge, Foltest and his men waited. The princess eyed them suspiciously and looked to Helena who gave a reassuring smile and a nod.

With no time to help reunite the estranged daughter and father, Helena went back to tend to Geralt. She thanked Melitele that he was still breathing. She knew that she didn't have the strength to drag him out alone, so she would need to nurse his wounds where he lay.

She grabbed her satchel and rummaged for her things. With a rag, she held pressure to the bite and her free hand brushed his stray hair out of his face. Once assured that the bleeding had stopped, she grabbed her bottle of vodka. She poured it onto the wound to clean it. The burning was enough to wake him; his golden eyes shot open and he clenched his jaw.

Ignoring him, Helena dressed the wound tight and secure. Satisfied with her work, she hummed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

"I'll put some salve on it later. It looks like it'll lead to a nasty scar."

"Add it to my collection." Geralt tried to sit up but was met with a small hand to his chest, pushing him back. He sighed and strained to look around.

"She's with Foltest," Helena answered. "You were magnificent, Geralt. You could have killed her and yet..." She shook her head and exhaled, "Look, I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

Before she could ramble, Helena was cut off with a deep kiss. She stiffened and didn't return it and instead broke away. Geralt seemed pained by the rejection which she quickly shook off.

"You're just... covered in a lot of blood."

"Oh," He blinked. "That I am." 

"We can try again later." She assured with a laugh. She rose and walked over to where her weapon lay. The bow was completely splintered and Helena grimaced, casting it aside.

"Time you learned how to wield a sword. Lucky for you, I know a good master."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hesitate to comment. I love hearing from you guys!


	5. Chapter 5

  
Chapter V: 𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖙 𝕶𝖆𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖍𝖊𝖓, part I

Kaer Morhen.

Helena had read about the fortress before. The School of the Wolf, where Witchers were created and taught long ago. If she closed her eyes, she could picture the compound in all its grandeur during its formative years. Now, however, only sat the shell of something once great.

Rusted armor littered its vacant halls. Shattered windows poorly patched up allowed a stiff breeze, but not enough as the air still smelled of mildew and mold. She pondered how this was all Geralt knew of a home and found herself comparing their different worlds.

"Miss Helena, do I need to repeat myself?" A disgruntled voice interrupted her thoughts. "Silver and steel -- what is the difference?"

Vesemir, Geralt's mentor and father-figure, sat before her. She watched as the old man crossed his arms and shot a stern look in her direction. Like Geralt, his face was speckled with scars. A pair of golden eyes locked with hers, evidence of the mutations inflicted on a Witcher.

"Silver is for monsters," Helena stated, recalling what Geralt had told her months ago, as she gestured at the blades at their feet. "Steel is for humans. Steel can work on monsters too, but silver is more efficient, especially in cases like the Bruxa. Silver shouldn't be used on humans as it's delicate and shouldn't be used for combat."

When her companion told her that he knew a great teacher to teach her swordsmanship, she presumed he was referring to himself. Perhaps he'd taken into consideration her former education. That a slow-paced learning environment would benefit her more. Something he couldn't provide.

"Well done, Miss Helena." Vesemir stood with a stretch and a groan, "Later, we'll focus on how to properly hold your sword and stance.

Wait, she didn't think it'd be **_this_** slow.

Helena furrowed her brow, "That's all for today?"

"I didn't expect Geralt to winter at Kaer Morhen, let alone with a... guest. Though delighted to see you both, I mustn't let it get in the way of my nap.

"Lesson finished so soon?" Geralt questioned with a quirked brow as she left the study.

"Said something about needing a nap." 

He hummed and drew her in for a hug. Helena was still getting used to the intimacy the Witcher displayed; he rarely did so freely. Each time, she'd feel his muscles tense, unsure. He'd melt the moment she'd wrap her arms around him -- touch starved and taking her all in. 

"Since I'm not yet capable of steady holding a sword -- or at least until Master Vesemir wakes -- what do you suggest we do?"

"I could show you to your room," Geralt suggested with a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The maiden titled her head and nibbled nervously on her bottom lip. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead of her voice, another spoke over her.

"Oi, pretty boy!"

The Witcher in her arms tensed up once more and muttered, "Fucking prick" ere abandoning her embrace. At the end of the hall stood two more Witchers. 

"You know I heard that." The so-called 'prick' stated with arms crossed. He narrowed his cat-eyes at the pair and donned a sneer, "Who's your lady friend? Thought papa Vesemir said not to get involved."

His partner beside him walked over to greet Geralt. Despite the scar on his face leaving behind a permanent menacing grimace, he wrapped Geralt into a warm hug. Geralt returned the hug and gave the man a firm pat on the back. 

"Helena, these are my brothers. This here is Eskel and that sod over there is Lambert." 

Lambert faked a bow, "Charmed."

"Didn't think you'd be making it this winter," Geralt made conversation as he and Eskel began to walk down the corridor. 

"Same as every year," was his reply. 

Helena followed a beat behind to allow the friends to mingle. She looked to Lambert on her left who matched her pace but said nothing.

He eyed her back, "Never understood why you women wore blouses that show off your shoulders like that. Pointless. Showing off your tits, I understand, really. Noted and appreciated. But your shoulders? Bah." Unlike his older companion, Lambert didn't hold back nor hide his wandering gaze. 

"Excuse me?"

"Too fuckin' cold in this dump," He quickened his pace to catch up with his brothers, "Got some whiskey from the Isles. Let's drink, men!"

Lambert took charge and now led them to the dining hall.

"Eskel, buddy, fetch the drink and some cups!" He sat down at a table with Geralt and Helena across from him. "How 'bout we play a game? Hm, strip Gwent?"

"I've never even played Gwent before," Helena replied with a frown.

"Even better."

Eskel came to the table, muttering under his breath he wasn't a barmaid. He set a tankard in front of each man and filled their cups.

"Only got mugs -- that okay, Helena?"

She hummed a reply and smiled as he poured her drink too. The drinking up looked comically large in her hands. She brought it up to her lips, sniffing the drink first, and took a mouthful. Much to the Witchers' amusement, Helena choked and sputtered, not expecting the burn.

"Want us to water it down for ya?" Geralt teased as he rubbed her back. She shook her head no, face red from both the alcohol and embarrassment.

"So, princess--" Lambert began.

Helena corrected him, "Actually, I'm only a Lady--"

"--whatever. What brings you to this shithole?"

Unsure how to answer, she looked to Geralt.

"Met her in Oxenfurt after a contract. Wanted to come see what we do." The white-haired man spoke for her with a shrug. 

"So are you really a Lady?" Eskel asked.

She nodded with a small sip, "Lady Helena." She tapped her chin as she pretended to be in thought, "Though you may call me 'Your Grace.'"

"Your Grace," Lambert rolled his eyes and brought his mug up as if toasting. "Still doesn't answer my question. How? Sure. But why? Too many bonbons? Couldn't figure out which maid to terrorize?"

"Lay off her," Geralt ordered.

Helena dismissed it with a wave, "I want to feel like I was born more to be someone's wife and womb. I'm to be married in six months time and I want a memory I can look back on fondly."

Eskel nudged his buddy sitting beside him, "We of all people ought to understand the longing of choice."

"I've been working on a monster journal -- well, it's more of a diary, to be frank. I think it'd be swell to make a book about where I've gone and what I've seen. Hell, this is the farthest I've ever been from Oxenfurt. If it never graces a publisher or library, so be it. I'll read it to my brats before their wetnurse sees them to bed." She continued her rambling with blush and a chuckle.

The other two Witchers nodded at her, whereas Lambert clasped his hands together loudly, "So... Strip Gwent?"

"No," was the collective answer.

"Alright, killjoys. Any suggestions?"

The group thought for a moment and Helena spoke up.

"Back at university, we would play this game. It's called 'Never Have I Ever.' Someone starts by saying 'I've never...' and finishing the sentence however they want. Whoever has done that thing, downs a shot. Then it's the next guy's turn."

The game commenced and Helena was left to learn some interesting facts about the Witchers. Their mugs required multiple refills, she had yet to finish her first. She chalked it up to age difference and upbringing.

"Well, I appreciated the company," Helena took a last swig and stood, "But I should probably head to bed before I learn too much about you lot."

"Papa Vesemir havin' you polish swords in the morning?" Lambert teased causing the other Witchers to snicker at the innuendo. 

Confused, she raised a brow and shook her head no.

"Aah, great, so you have time to polish my sword," The short-haired Witcher wouldn't relent and received a sharp glare from Geralt, "Fine, fine. I can polish my own sword while Helena polishes Geralt's. Eskel's sword is pretty small, so--" Eskel stopped laughing and swatted at Lambert who was consumed by his buzz.

Blinking, Helena shrugged it off. As the other two were consumed in a slapping fight, she dipped down to whisper in Geralt's ear, feeling brazened by the alcohol.

"I'll leave my door unlocked for you."

**Bad idea.**

Helena awoke a few hours to the sound of banging and crashing then loud shushing. She shot up and looked for the source of the noise as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.

In front of her were the three Witchers, backlit by the moon. Eskel and Geralt were dressed down to their underwear, whereas Lambert was wearing her favorite dressing gown. Eskel covered himself and looked away whereas Lambert put his hands on his hips, showing off an hourglass figure.

"Y-you mad at us, L-lena?" Geralt slurred his words as he struggled to stand. Helena huffed loudly and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Only mad that he looks better in it than I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of Drew Monson, "Leeeeeeave me a fuckin' comment. I'm veeeeery lonelyyyyyy."


End file.
